


Lost and Found

by hdarchive



Category: Glee
Genre: Barista Blaine, Klaine Valentine's 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is the loneliest boy in the world on Valentine's Day, until he stumbles into a quaint little coffee shop hosting an open mic night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the third day of the [Klaine Valentine's Challege!](http://klainevalentines.tumblr.com/post/138538940181/video-link-when-the-rain-is-blowing-in-your) I was blanking on ideas and thought Kurt crying in a coffee shop would be funny. I don't know if I'll have time to write for the rest of the days, but I hope I do!

He hates Valentine’s Day. Hates all the stupid decorations and the candy and the flowers and the stupid little cards.

He hates it because, well, because -

Just once, just for one stinking freaking year, maybe he wants somebody to give him candy, or flowers, or a stupid little card. Is that so much to ask? To just not be alone?

There’s a knock on the door, and he hates himself for getting excited, because he already knows it’s not for him. Brody stands there with the biggest bouquet of roses Kurt’s ever seen, his grin so smug on his face Kurt wants to hurt him, but he swallows it down and lifts up his chin, says grimly, “Rachel’s in her room.”

God they’re annoying. Cute, sure, but mostly annoying. Especially today.

Rachel tells him that they won’t ‘do anything’ until later, so he’s free to hang around if he wants to, saying it like she feels sorry for him and she doesn’t mind being inconvenienced by him, for now.

That’s enough to get him off the couch, showered and dressed and out the door with his school bag, because anywhere in the world would be better than their love-filled apartment.

The streets of New York are busy, like always, but there’s less room on the sidewalks because people everywhere are walking hand in hand, side by side, leaning into each other and sneaking kisses and seriously, did everyone in the world decide to start dating somebody today? Because he swears he’s never witnessed this much PDA in his whole life, and he went to high school with Finn _and_ Rachel.

He walks, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, chin tipped down and buried in his scarf, walks and walks until he’s not really sure where he is, the buildings looking similar but different. He passes a few restaurants, but he doesn’t want to go in and sit down and dine alone while surrounded by couples, because that would be humiliating. He thinks about going to a random bar somewhere, drowning his lonely woeful sorrows in alcohol, but then that might be even more humiliating because he gets a bit strange when he’s drunk, and he’s so lonely it aches but he’s not desperate.

The street he’s on comes to an end, and right on the corner there’s an easel board outside, with a little chalk drawing of a coffee cup wearing a bowtie on it, saying in a speech bubble, _‘All you need is coffee, not love!!’._

He laughs out loud to himself, and goes inside, immediately enveloped by warmth and the smell of coffee and the stringy sounds of someone setting up a guitar. It’s not crowded, or decorated at all, like Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist here. He’s not sure where he is, but it already feels like home.

After a minute of staring up at the board, covered in more cute chalk drawings, he goes up to the counter and waits for the barista to notice him and come over.

He almost forgot that there were attractive guys in this city, but then the barista does turn around, and that aching spot of loneliness in his chest throbs for a second, because dammit, _he’s cute_. And he must be the one drawing all the chalk doodles, because he’s wearing a heart-patterned bowtie with his uniform.

“Hi there,” the barista says, smiling wide at him as he comes closer to the register. “What can I get for you?”

Kurt hardens his expression, not letting his stupid fluttering heart go off, because pining over a barista in a bowtie is just as desperate as some random at a bar.

“Something strong,” he says back, voice flat.

The barista looks confused, eyebrows scrunching up. “We don’t serve alcohol here.”

He falters, mouth hanging open. “That’s not what I meant -”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” the barista laughs, hands held up playfully, smile turning into a full force grin. “Uh, we recently got a new ultra dark roast blend from -”

“I’ll take it.”

“Sure thing. Can I get your name?”

He gets distracted, the barista picking up a cup and a pen, biceps flexing underneath the sleeves of his black polo, and he has to tear his eyes away and look back up, clear his throat before saying, “Kurt.”

The barista keeps smiling, scribbling out his name. “Sure thing, Kurt.”

He slumps against the counter as he waits, huffs and taps his foot and actively tries to  _not_ watch the barista pour his drink.

The guitar that was being tuned suddenly starts being strummed, and he looks off to the back of the shop where there’s a built-in stage, only big enough to house a piano and a guitar stand. A girl starts singing, closing her eyes, getting far too deeply invested in the Taylor Swift song she’s singing.

“Oh god, what is this?” he asks in horror, mouth and eyes open wide.

The barista comes up to the counter, slides him his drink and says, “Open mic night.”

“On Valentine’s Day?”

“What better way to express your love?”

He groans, takes his drink and digs out some change for the tip jar.

“I can think of plenty.”

-

He finds a table in the corner near the window and tries to get some studying done.

When he was fifteen or sixteen, and he had to spend every Valentine’s alone and single, he told himself that one day he’d be in a city crawling with attractive guys. Attractive guys who would want him.

What a lie. He feels sorry for his younger self, for being so hopeful. He feels more sorry for himself now though, because now there’s no excuse. He’s supposedly a catch - or at least that’s what Rachel tells him.

Maybe she’s lying too.

It’s hard to stay focused on his work when there’s the noise and chatter of everyone around him living their lives, more people getting up on the stage to sing, people laughing and talking and it just makes him feel so alone, sitting silent in the corner.

It’s also hard to stay focused because every time he looks up, that damn barista is staring back at him, not even looking ashamed when Kurt catches him.

He drains the rest of his coffee and slams his cup down, contemplating another, but the shop is getting more crowded and he doesn’t want to take a table away from an actual couple.

But then there’s the sound of microphone static, and then suddenly a familiar voice is coming from the stage.

“Uh, hi everybody. I’m Blaine and I work here. My boss said I could sing on my break if I wanted,” the barista says, mouth pressed so close to the microphone his laugh comes out muffled, and Kurt wants to hate it but he only finds it endearing. “So this one goes out to all the lovers in the room.”

He almost sighs, almost slaps his hand to his face or smacks his face to the table, but then the barista, Blaine, looks his way and smirks a little.

“And maybe the loners too.”

He can’t look away. He wants to, he tries to, but Blaine is good. Really good. He’s singing an Adele song, which Kurt wouldn’t even attempt because he knows he would never be able to deliver it with the soul and heart that it deserves, but Blaine does.

He drops his chin to his hand and sighs, but not with annoyance.

“I could make you happy, make your dreams come true.”

It takes a second, he needs to process the words, and then process the voice.

And then suddenly he wishes the words were meant for him, that the voice was all his to hear, god he’s so stupid he doesn’t even know him but he wants to be the one Blaine’s singing about that’s all he wants -

Maybe it’s years of being lonely, maybe it’s all those years coming to a point today, maybe it’s being smiled at by some random cute stranger and wanting nothing more than to smile back.

He sobs.

He can’t control it, his stomach twists and his throat goes tight and tears burn as they spring from his eyes and he _can’t_ control it.

He’s quick to cover his mouth, his whole chest wrenching with how bad it hurts. Everybody in the coffee shop, including Blaine, turn to glance at him, but Blaine finishes the song, the piano going out sadly.

Never in his life has he moved so fast, shoving his books back in his bag, trying desperately to ignore the hole in his chest where he wishes his heart was.

He’s just about to the door when there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he feels a pang in his chest, something similar to a heartbeat, if he had a heart.

“Hey, hey!”

He turns around and wipes his nose, gaze slowly moving up from the ground.

Blaine stands there, looking a bit frantic, eyes wide as they roam over Kurt’s body. “Was I that bad?”

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head quickly. “God no, it’s not you. You were amazing. _I’m_ the problem here.”

Blaine relaxes, shoulders dropping, and he takes a step back and indicates towards a free table off to the side. “Wanna sit down and talk about it?”

He laughs a bit awkwardly, shaking his head again. “I just cried in front of all these people. All I want to do is go fall off the edge of a cliff.”

Blaine laughs too, and touches the side of Kurt’s shoulder carefully, like they’re friends and not strangers.

“Well I don’t think they care, it is Valentine’s Day after all,” Blaine says, guiding him over to the table. “And I’d like it if you stayed. Unless you have somewhere important to be?”

Blaine pulls out a chair for him, and he sits without any more hesitance, because what else is he going to do on this lonely, miserable night?

“That’s the problem. I don’t.”

“Great!” Blaine says excitedly, patting him on the back. “Let me get you a refill and I’ll be right back.”

Blaine returns with two cups of coffee and two pieces of biscotti, smiling wide at Kurt as he sits down.

“So, Kurt right? I’m Blaine.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“What brings you here on this fine evening?” Blaine asks, and his voice sounds warm, nice, Kurt likes his voice, could just listen to him talk all day and night.

He sucks in a breath, slowly lets it out or else he’ll get too angry, tries to let Blaine’s voice soothe him.

“My roommate is shacked up with her boyfriend in our apartment, so I have nowhere else to go,” he starts to say, breaking the biscotti in half a little too forcefully. “Every person on earth that I know has plans - even my dad - and I am here, talking to you!”

Blaine frowns, takes the lid off his coffee and blows on it, then mumbles, “That doesn’t really answer the question.”

“What more do you want to know?” he shouts, doesn’t mean to shout, feeling the biscotti crumble in his hand.

“You could easily be out doing something else, couldn’t you?”

Oh, he could sob again, he feels it climbing up his chest and his throat. He looks away, bites over his lip and breathes in through his nose, then slowly looks back.

He says, going for teasing but coming off sadly, “I am more single than a lost sock.”

Blaine hums and nods, takes a sip of his coffee and looks up to meet Kurt’s eyes.

“Well every sock comes in a pair,” Blaine says, smiling, and Kurt feels his frozen insides start to melt. “You just need to find your other half.”

Kurt laughs, drops his chin down to his chest. “Sure, I’ll just call up the sock lost and found.”

Blaine’s frown returns, his foot underneath the table nudging Kurt’s. “Now you just sound crazy.”

He smiles and nibbles away at what’s left of his biscotti, feeling his heart start to come back to life, beating fully and soundly for the first time since - well, ever.

“Well what about you?” he asks, nudging Blaine’s foot back. “Nobody should have to work on Valentine’s Day and serve pathetic sad saps like me.”

Blaine shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t mind it. Not if I can cheer people like you up.”

“Pathetic people like me?”

Blaine just smirks, seemingly unable to hear Kurt.

“And besides . . . maybe I’m a sad lost sock too.”

His eyes catch Kurt’s again, and the way that he grins then says far more than words ever could. 

Kurt feels his mouth go dry, his throat tightening up as he swallows roughly, thinking of something, anything to say back to that because the way Blaine’s smiling at him is unlike anything else.

“I -”

Blaine quickly stands up, raises his cup as if in a toast, and gives him one last smile.

“I have to get back to work now, but it was lovely meeting you, Kurt,” Blaine says, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder again. “I hope you stick around.”

With that, Blaine’s gone, leaving Kurt with his heart beating faster now, finally working, finally feeling something besides maddening grey loneliness.

He looks around the quaint little coffee shop and smiles.

It must have felt like home for a reason.


End file.
